


i can't have just one

by Sylv



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Future Fic, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-10
Updated: 2014-04-16
Packaged: 2018-01-18 20:33:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1441903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sylv/pseuds/Sylv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Well, if we're going to do this, we're going to do it right."</p><p>[Killian sees Emma in one of her princess dresses for the first time, and likes it far more than either of them expected. Emma, of course, feels that she deserves to put him in a new outfit as well.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. i am a pirate, you are a princess

Emma lets out a groan of frustration when she shuts the door to their suite, and leans heavily against it. Killian smiles fondly to himself, not glancing up from where he is engrossed in a book by the fireplace.

“Court as tedious as ever?”

“More,” Emma complains, rustling noises indicating that she is walking towards him. “We had ‘noble guests’ visiting today, so I had to wear this.”

Killian looks up to see Emma spreading the skirts of a beautiful aqua dress, beading in a bodice that hugs her waist and moulds to the swell of her breasts. Her hair is in a pile on top of her head, a few blonde curls hanging free to brush her shoulders. She has a distinctly contemptuous look on her face as she looks herself over, and Killian feels a thrum of heat shoot right to his groin.

“It’s impossible to walk in this thing.”

He must have made some kind of noise, because Emma looks up at him and raises an eyebrow, wrinkling her nose. “Have something you want to say?”

A lascivious grin spreads across his face before he can stop it, but he finds that he doesn’t want to. He places the book down and stalks towards her, gaze still roving over her form. “You look a princess in this dress, Emma.”

“You told me I’m always a princess,” she responds teasingly as he reaches her, drawing her into his arms and placing a searing kiss underneath her jaw. Emma leans her head back, allowing him more access.

“Aye, that you are.” Killian works his way up and across until he can capture her lips with his. Emma falls into it easily, twining her arms around his neck and opening her mouth when his tongue swipes. His hand slides down, over the soft, fine fabric of the dress, and he moans against her.

She lets out a breathless laugh, pulling back slightly and whispering into his mouth, “Worked up tonight?”

He nuzzles into her neck and rubs the material between his thumb and forefinger. “What man in his right mind wouldn’t be, with a princess as beautiful as you in his arms?”

Emma goes to slip out of the dress, hands at the laces, but he stops her. “Wear it to bed?”

She pauses, studying him. “You like it that much?”

He kisses her again, hard, short, and bites at her bottom lip, pressing his hips into hers so she can clearly feel just how much he likes it. “I like _you in_ the dress, love.”

Her hands come up between them, pushing at his chest so he has to take a step back from her. He is already hard, aching for her, but his disappointment at the space bewteen their bodies evaporates in the heat of her gaze, her eyes dragging slowly from his feet up to meet his own.

“Well, if we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right.” She tries for a resigned sigh, but he isn’t fooled, not when a little bit of pink rises to her cheeks, lips parted in interest.

Killian frowns, attention diverted from his goal for a moment. “What do you mean?”

;;

His palms are just a bit sweaty as he stands outside the door to their rooms. Emma had told him that all he had to do was be himself (or “Captain Hook” as she had put it with a wink) and that she would take care of the rest, but he still wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting.

Still, the idea of Emma in that gorgeous princess dress propels him forward, so with a deep breath he takes hold of the door handle and twists, opening it.

Emma is sitting at her vanity, hair now down from its previous style, and she is running a brush through her locks delicately. Her eyes meet his in the mirror, and she smiles at him, slow and shy, and all the blood in his body goes rushing south.

“Captain,” she says, placing her brush down and standing to walk over to him. He is hypnotized by the sway of her hips, the tilt of her head. “I wasn’t expecting you so soon.”

“Princess,” Killian responds, still attempting to get his bearings.

Emma interlaces the fingers of one of her hands with his and stares at them while she says, “The wedding is first thing in the morning so I won’t be able to see you anymore, after that.”

He is lost for a minute, but pushes past his haze of arousal and says, “What is it that you want from me, Princess Emma?”

She bats her eyelashes at him—gods he’s never seen her do that before—and her smile has a hint of mischief in it. “I think the better question is what _you_ want from _me_ , captain. I am yours for the taking—if this is going to be my last night of freedom, I want to spend it with you.”

Killian’s brain finally catches up, and he feels a wave of desire crash dow nover him. His arms go around her waist and he growls into her ear, “Be careful, dear. I must warn you that I tend to take quite a bit.”

“I’m yours,” Emma repeats, eyes wide. “I want you to take all I have to give, before someone else can. Please, I need this. I need you to ravish me the way you always promised you would.”

Killian brushes her hair out of her face, almost tenderly. “Then you had best prepare yourself, love, because I don’t do things by halves.”

He then kisses her fiercely, and she sighs into his mouth. Killian realizes that she must not be repressing any noises, because little mewls and moans are being gasped into his lips as his hand wanders, pulling her tight against him, palming her breast, following the curve of her hips and legs.

His pulse is pounding and he can’t taste enough of her skin, kissing each of her cheeks, down her neck, across her collarbone and sweeping into her mouth once more, swallowing each little sound she emits. He walks her back to where the bed is, leaving red marks on her milky white skin where he sucks, making sure that her body stays flush against his.

When the backs of her knees hit the edge of the bed she squeaks and falls backwards. Killian grins, running the tip of his hook along the neckline of her dress, savoring the shudder that elicits and relishing in the red line it leaves behind. Her breath gets caught in her throat when he works his hook underneath her dress and across it along the fabric until there is a small tearing noise.

“Who would have thought, princess,” he says, stepping closer to her and leaning down so that he can watch while his hook ruins the beautiful dress. “That you would choose to freely give yourself to a pirate the night before you’re meant to be wed. I must say, I am honored to have been chosen.”

Killian yanks the dress down, freeing her breasts, and brushes over one nipple with the curve of his hook. It hardens underneath the cold metal, and he draws it between his teeth, sucking, as he runs his hook across her other breast. Emma whimpers, her hands on the back of his head, holding him there. He bites, lightly, and then soothes what must be a small sting with the flat of his tongue.

Her body arches into him, and he kneads her breast with his hand, pulling back to watch her face as she does. Her mouth is open, lips rounded in a small “oh!” and her eyelashes flutter against her cheeks. He’s already painfully hard, but there are multiple things he wants to do to her body before he has her.

He kisses her, wet and hot, and drags his tongue down her skin, between her breasts, until he is on his knees in front of her and she is leaning up on her elbows to watch. Killian smooths his hand up her leg, pushing the skirts up as he goes, until they are sitting about her waist and she is bare before him. His mouth waters; she is trying to kill him where he kneels, because she isn’t wearing anything underneath the dress.

“You were hoping for this, weren’t you?” he asks, touching his fingers to her sensitive flesh. She jumps, a blush staining her cheeks, and he smirks. “I’d be willing to bet you were sitting here all night thinking about the things I would do to you, wet and wanting, waiting for me to come and make you mine.”

Emma writhes, shifting her hips in front of him, but he holds her still with his hand on her hip, gripping with bruising force. “I can’t wait for the day I’ll be able to tell the tale of when I took the crown princess’s innocence.” Killian looks up at her and grins, stretching out his left arm so that his hook is in front of her.

“Bite,” he tells her. When she doesn’t move immediately he pushes the curve against her lips. “ _Bite down_ , darling.”

Emma’s teeth lock around the metal, and he watches her tongue slide over the smooth surface for a moment, the sight causing a lazy shiver to wend its way up his spine. “That’s a good girl—now stay just like that. We wouldn’t want anyone to interrupt us.”

He leans down and licks a long stripe up through her folds, ending at her clit. Emma moans around the hook, her fingers bunching in the material of her dress. Killian exhales shakily over her cunt, savoring the taste of her on his lips. Tangy, delicious, gods he could stay between her thighs forever. And watching her like this, breasts bare, dress still on, spread out in front of him, whimpering around his hook; this is a sight that he will have to burn into his memory for any long days without her.

Killian kisses her clit softly, teasing her with his lips, and then licks his way lower, thrusting his tongue inside of her. Emma actually cries out at that, biting down on his hook hard enough that he can feel the vibrations in his arm.

He devours her, feeling a starving man at a banquet. And her sounds, the way she tugs at his hair and wraps her legs around his shoulders to anchor him in place all combine to make him growl, open his mouth wide against her, lick and suck and kiss until she is practically sobbing above him. He fucks his tongue into her harder.

Emma pushes his hook away and he uses it to hold her against his mouth, grazing his teeth across her clit quickly before swirling his tongue around her. She is panting, gasping out his name, and he glances up to see her playing with her breasts, pinching and rolling her nipples.

There is heat, unbearable heat pressing down on him so that he has to palm himself through his leather, but he holds out because she is practically begging him now, words so delicious that he wishes he could kiss them from her lips: “please Killian, god please let me come, fuck, _fuck Killian_!”

He needs to be inside of her _now_ , but Captain Hook wants her pliant, so he roughly thrusts two fingers inside of her. Emma keens, arching her back and falling down onto the bed, letting her dress slide down her legs so that he is underneath her skirts, dragging his fingers across her walls, stretching her.

Killian closes his eyes and gently bites down on her clit, flicking back and forth with his tongue, and scissors his fingers inside of her. Emma comes instantly, gripping his fingers tight and crying out, the sound reaching his ears slightly muffled by the layers of her skirts. He chuckles against her, and her body jumps at the vibrations.

When he ducks back out she is melting into the bed, a sated smile spreading across her face. He feels a surge of pride and leans down to bite at the underside of her left breast, leaving red teeth marks there. He runs his thumb across it, hoping it bruises, and then rips her dress down the middle in one quick slashing movement with his hook. Beads scatter across the blankets and floor, small strips of silk and lace flutter to the ground.

Emma’s eyebrows draw together, and she opens her mouth, probably to scold him, but he smacks her hip with a decent amount of force, and her words come out as a moan instead. Killian spreads her legs wider so he can step more fully between them and runs his hook along her inner thigh, up through her wetness. He brings it up to her mouth and she licks the proof of her release from the metal without him having to say anything, never breaking eye contact with him as she does.

“You taste lovely, don’t you think?” Killian kisses it from her mouth, his hook pricking at her pulse point in her neck, and his hand reaching down to undo the laces of his pants.

Emma squirms, trying to get her hands down between them to help, but he swats her away, pulling back and dragging her hips with him so that they are hanging off the bed. She reaches up, attempting to pull him down to her, but he instead rolls her over onto her stomach and leans over so that his cock is brushing against her, and whispers into her ear, “I don’t think so princess. I did tell you that I was going to take what I wanted.”

She whimpers, grinding her hips back against him and coating him in her slickness. He makes her wait however, pressing harsh, sharp kisses of teeth on each vertebra, and then dragging one of her legs up onto the bed with his hook. He quickly rids himself of his shirt, throwing it across the room, and then lines himself up, takes a deep breath, and buries himself all the way inside of her.

Emma is biting down on the ripped dress still beneath her, muscles trembling with the effort of staying still, and he pauses for a minute, savoring the feeling of her fluttering around him, how tight and hot and wet she is for him. He tells her as much, and pinkness floods her face, travels down her neck. In one slow, long movement he pulls out and pushes back in.

“Oh my god,” Emma breathes, and Killian grins, snapping his hips into hers with enough force that she slides forward on the bed a bit. He studies the muscles in her back that clench and ripple as she ruts back onto him, before his eyes dart down to watch him slide in and out of her.

She is spread out around his cock, wet and wanting, meeting him thrust for thrust, and Killian doesn’t think he has ever seen a more erotic sight. He pushes her back down with his hook, pricking the skin so that a tiny drop of blood wells up and she is forced to arch her back.

The new angle has her moaning into the mattress, gripping onto the sheets for dear life because his cock is hitting that spot inside of her that makes her clench down around him on every stroke, and it feels so fucking good to have her like this, at his mercy and loving it, letting out breathless cries every time his hook touches her, rolling her hips back into his.

“So responsive, princess,” he manages to get out between gritted teeth, sweat beginning to bead on his skin. “I can see just how much you’re loving this. You have such a nice flush to your skin, your pretty little cunt is so fucking tight around me. Is it everything you’ve always imagined it would be?”

“Yes,” Emma bites out, opening her eyes and turning her head so that she can look at him. She runs her tongue along her bottom lip and lifts herself up onto her toes, shuddering when he increases his pace in response. Killian reaches his hand around and brushes his fingers across her clit, just the lightest touch, but it still has her whispering, “More.”

He presses his chest against her back, pulling the skin of her shoulder between his teeth and worrying it until she flinches from the pain, rubbing her clit in quick circles as he does. Their bodies slide against each other, slick and dirty and perfect, and Killian can feel his orgasm beginning low in his stomach, coiling tight. He slows, dragging out the feeling and noses into her hair, breathing in the smell of sex and Emma.

“Killian,” she groans, and he just loves the way his name sounds wrapped in pleasure-laden syllables. He pinches her clit, and thrusts once, hard, before stilling.

“Aye, princess?”

“Killian!” she growls, circling her hips in an attempt to get him to move again.

“My name is delectable when you’re the one saying it,” he tugs her bottom lip between his teeth and sucks, pulling out and pushing in once more. “Say it again, love.”

Emma’s smirk is a little bit dangerous, and she bites right back at him, nipping until his own lips feel bruised. “Make me.” She tries to push herself up on her arms, but he forces her to tilt her head up and to the side uncomfortably by threatening the tip of his hook at the soft underside of her chin, and she drops back to the bed.

“You should know better than to challenge me, Swan.”

He takes his hand from her clit and grabs her shoulder, pulling her body down to meet his every time he thrusts, and sets a punishing pace, one that gives her no room to breathe, no option but to cling to whatever she can. Killian’s head drops down to his chest, eyes tracing paths from her face, contorted in pleasure, down her lithe form to where his cock is pounding into her and back up again.

The litany of curses falling from Emma’s lips warn him that she’s close, and it’s just a moment, just a few more thrusts before she is falling over the edge, clenching around him and turning her face into the bed to try and muffle his name as she slurs it out. He wants to draw her orgasm out, wants to try and make her come again if he can, but the feeling of her around him is too much and he follows her too soon, heat spreading to every limb, stars bursting behind his eyes.

Killian is standing on shaking legs when he can think again, and Emma is breathing harshly, mouth open, hair sticking to her face. He slips out of her and slides his pants down his legs before taking her with him when he crawls under the covers.

She tucks herself into his body and they lie like that for a minute, a comfortable silence settling over them. Emma shifts a bit, lets out a contented sigh, and says, “I’m sorry I couldn’t stay in character.”

Killian laughs tiredly. “No need to apologize love; you jumpstarted my own imagination.”

“Yeah, you carried the whole thing. And your hook… you’ve never kept it on before.”

He grins into the back of her neck. “You liked that, did you?”

“Maybe a little bit.” Emma draws his arm around her waist. “But you’re going to be the one to explain to Mary Margaret why that dress is ruined. She picked it out especially for me, you know.”

He freezes, images of a furious Snow demanding answers branding themselves into his mind. “You’re absolutely ruthless. Not very princess-like at all.”

She giggles, and his heart swells at the sound. “I’d say I’m sorry, but that would be a lie.”

“Aye,” he kisses her shoulder. “But I can forgive you.”


	2. faithful like a soldier

“So I hear that David finally talked you into taking the position as Admiral?”

Killian mumbles something affirmative into the bed. Emma places her hands on her hips and rolls her eyes; of course he would be lying face down, limbs sprawled out in every direction. What an incredible drama queen.

“It won’t be that bad.”

“That father of yours has a silver tongue,” Killian complains, sitting up and opening his arms to her. Emma allows him to pull her down next to him on the bed, close enough that their breath is mingling. “Wasn’t it merely a month ago I told him in no uncertain terms that I would not be part of a navy again?”

Emma grins, but refrains from laughing. “He’s got you wrapped around his finger.”

“Just like his daughter,” Killian kisses her, soft and slow and sweet, and Emma’s body practically hums with happiness. When he pulls away, he leaves a quick kiss on the tip of her nose.

“Speaking of silver-tongued daughters,” Emma begins airily, and Killian’s face makes a shockingly quick switch from adoring to dark and hungry.

“I’m always open to speaking about that, love.”

She smiles. “Good. Because I was wondering if—now that you’re officially a ‘sea man’ again—you’d put on your uniform for me?”

Killian blinks, but it doesn’t take long for understanding to light his eyes. “Ah, I see. More of this ‘roleplaying’ of yours?”

“Exactly.”

“Aye, I knew you would be responding in kind after the princess dress. Although I think it’s safe to say that you enjoyed yourself as well?”

Emma shrugs, tracing her fingers down the rough stubble on his jaw. “Just because I had fun doesn’t mean that it isn’t my turn now. And for my turn, I want you to put on your uniform.”

“Hm… and who would you like me to be for you, Emma? A man returning to his love after months away at sea?”

She shakes her head. “I was thinking something more along the lines of the young, innocent lieutenant that you were telling me about, who had the ponytail.” Here she does snort out a laugh.

Killian looks affronted. “It was the style.”

“A ponytail is a ponytail.”

“In this situation, who would you be then, if not my love?”

Emma feels positively dangerous and hopes that her smile demonstrates that. “I’d be me, of course.”

“I rather think you’d have eaten that lieutenant up and spat him out, Swan.”

“That’s kind of the point.”

Killian says nothing, but his eyes are hooded and he runs his tongue across his lips; Emma’s pulse quickens. She’s won.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

;;

He does manage to do it.

Emma studies him in the outfit—it’s pressed, all clean lines and sharp angles, white and spotless and so completely different from what he usually wears. And—her eyes pause in their inspection—oh god, he’s dragged out some sort of metals and pinned them to his breast. He is shuffling awkwardly back and forth on his feet, and Emma suspects that it isn’t an act; how long has it been since he has worn anything like this?

Honestly though, he has no reason to be self-conscious. He looks even better than she’d thought he would. She can’t thank David enough.

“Well?” he finally asks, spreading his arms wide on either side of his body.

“Well what?” she says back, but walks closer to him anyway. Gold buttons, a tucked shirt, definitive seams to his pants. He looks the very picture of the straight-laced lieutenant. Emma almost claps her hands with glee.

“Well, what am I doing here, miss?” Killian’s voice is light, polite, tinged with just the barest hint of confusion. He’s really good at this, the whole pretending thing, especially for someone who was just introduced to the idea.

Emma draws her finger down the center of his chest, wishing that there was chest hair bared for her to touch—but soon enough. She smiles at up him, batting her eyelashes, and there is no disguising the want in his expression. “I thought I’d invite you over before tomorrow, when I won’t be seeing you anymore. You deserve a fun night before you’re out at sea for months. And you’ll need some nice memories to get you through.”

A muscle in Killian’s jaw jumps at her words, fingers twitching by his side like he is having to refrain from touching her. “If you’re implying what I think you’re implying, miss Swan—“

“Emma,” she interrupts him, focused on unbuttoning his outer jacket.

“I’m sorry?”

“Call me Emma.”

“Emma,” he continues through gritted teeth. “It wouldn’t be proper of me to take advantage of you in that way.”

“Oh, I won’t be the one who gets taken advantage of,” she smirks. The jacket drops from his shoulders at the same time as Emma shoves him backwards. He loses his balance and stumbles into the chair behind him. She is in his lap at once, straddling his hips, and when she lowers herself she can already feel how much this is affecting him.

He looks like he’s going to try protesting again, so Emma kisses him instead. His lips move underneath hers, gently, hesitantly, but she wants none of that so she nips at him, slides her tongue along the seam of his lips and he opens for her with a needy groan. She grinds herself down onto him, and even through both of their clothes the hardness of him gives her friction where she needs it.

She bites him on his jaw, the sensitive spot underneath his ear, down his neck, wanting to mark him as he marked her. When she meets the obstacle of his shirt she growls, sucking as his pulse point and fumbles with more buttons, impatient enough that her fingers are clumsy. Killian is sitting still with his head thrown back, allowing her unimpeded access to his throat, his hand gripping the arm of the chair so tightly his knuckles are going white.

“You can touch me,” Emma whispers into his ear, pushing the shirt off of his chest and scraping her nails down, down to his pants. When he doesn’t move, she grabs his hand and places it on her breast.

“Touch me,” she orders.

He does, cautiously kneading her, fingers running across her nipple, and Emma bends to press kisses to every exposed inch of his skin. His stomach jumps when she touches it with her tongue and she laughs, groaning as he seems to get up the courage to roll her nipple between two fingers through her shirt.

She slips off of his lap and down onto the floor, pulling his knees apart. Killian’s eyes are wide, lips red, chest heaving, and he shakes his head. “Emma, don’t. It would be bad form—“

“I don’t care,” she snaps, palming him through his pants. His head drops down so his chin is brushing his chest, pupils blown so wide that she can only see a sliver of blue around them.

He makes one more half-hearted noise of protest and she holds up her free hand to stop him, her other hand still running over him, squeezing lightly. “If you really don’t want me to continue I’ll stop and you can leave right now. Do you want me to stop?”

Killian pauses, meets her eyes, and shakes his head.

She grins voraciously. “Good.”

Emma expertly undoes the laces of his pants (she’s had enough practice by now), and pulls him free. His cock is hard and straining, precum beading at the tip, and her mouth waters at the sight of it. She kisses it, enough to smear precum over her lips, and then glances up at him as she licks them clean.

“Oh gods,” he moans, his hand goes to her hair and resting there.

She kisses all the way down his length, open-mouthed and hot, and then back up the other side. His hand stays with her as she does, gripping a fistful of her hair when she places a particularly wet one on him, and doesn’t let go. With no more preamble, Emma opens wide and takes him into her mouth as far as he will go.

“Emma!” Killian exclaims, his hips twitching. She comes back up, tracing her tongue along the underside of his cock and hollowing her cheeks out as she does. He bucks up into her, once, and then stills immediately, concern mixing with the lust in his expression.

She pulls off of him with a wet pop. “You can move if you want,” she wraps a hand around him loosely and moves a few times. “I can take it.” She winks at him, and goes back to her work.

Emma alternates between sucking just on the tip, licking at the head, and opening her throat so that she can take him all the way to the base, breathing hard through her nose. He lets out a string of sounds, thrusting up into her mouth in time with her movements. Emma’s hand follows her mouth as she sucks him, and when she tongues at the sensitive spot below the head of his cock she squeezes him, and he gasps.

“Emma, Emma, Emma,” he murmurs, putting light pressure on the back of her head to encourage her to swallow him down. She does and hums when his mouth falls open.

She is soaking wet, panties sticking to her skin, and her body is aching to be touched. While she holds his cock still, licking and kissing the sides once more, she pops the button of her jeans and draws down the zipper so she can reach inside. A sigh escapes her lips when she touches her clit, circles that send small jolts of pleasure through her veins, and grazes her teeth along him. Killian’s hips buck up nearly violently, his hand wrapping some of her hair around his fingers and tugging. Emma moans around his cock and bobs her head quickly.

With a groan, Killian pushes her head down on him and thrusts up, causing her to almost gag around him. He comes, head thrown back, eyes closed, and Emma swallows while staring up at him. She sucks him through his orgasm, and he lifts his head, focusing as she pulls off of him, running her tongue across her teeth and smiling up at him.

He looks stunned and a little lost, and Emma crawls back into his lap to kiss him again. He doesn’t hold back this time, thrusting his tongue into her mouth and seeking out his own taste, tugging on her lips, running his hand up and down her back and then, hesitantly, down to rub her through her jeans.

Emma’s breath catches because she’s so incredibly turned on; everywhere he touches blazes a path of fire across her skin, and she has soaked through her underwear. She grinds down on his hand, and runs a finger across his cock. Killian twitches, oversensitive, and she laughs into his mouth.

“You’re going to need a little bit of time…” she pulls back, and tilts her head. His chest is heaving, hand running in unconscious patterns over her, her hips restlessly following. “But I know exactly what you can do in the meantime.”

She stands up and he follows, swaying into her, and it only takes a gentle push to have him fall back onto the bed. Quickly, Emma shimmies out of her clothes, pulling off her shirt and pushing her jeans and underwear down her legs. When she straightens up, Killian is finishing kicking his own pants off. Emma’s eyes trace over his body, muscles in his thighs and arms, chest and stomach. He is doing the same, gaze lingering down between her legs, and he licks his lips, and Emma remembers exactly what it was she was working towards.

“Lie back,” she murmurs, gliding toward him. He does as she says, keeping his eyes fixed on her. Emma runs her hands over her body, stopping to tweak her nipples for a moment, eyes fluttering shut at the sensations.

When she opens her eyes, Killian’s are darkened and heavily lidded, and she feels flushed, sexy, giddy almost. In a flash she is hovering over him, straddling his chest, and his hand is resting on her hip. When she leans down her hair spills around them like a curtain, blocking out everything else. She brushes her lips against his, ghosting along his mouth but not touching, not kissing, and pulls back when he tries to initiate.

“How’s your lung capacity?” she teases, but his breath hitches anyway.

“Miss Swan…”

“Emma,” she corrects him again, and slides so that she is hovering over his mouth. She looks down at him, blue eyes peering up at her from between her thighs. “ _Now_ you can kiss me.”

She lowers down onto his face and he opens his mouth against her, exhaling. It feels like it spreads out from her core to the tips of her fingers. Emma sucks in a deep breath, leans her hands onto her knees, and shifts back and forth. Killian flicks her clit with his tongue and takes it into his mouth, sucking.

“Good,” she breathes out, grinding down onto him immediating, seeking more of that feeling. His hand and stump rest on her hips and pull her closer in to his mouth, groaning into her folds. The vibrations go straight through her, and Emma’s fingers curl into the skin of her thighs. Killian licks a hard strip up to her clit, and then sets to work in earnest.

He sucks her clit into his mouth, flicking his tongue back and forth over it, and then grazes it with his teeth as he moves lower. He keeps up a constant stream of moans, and it thrills Emma to know that she does this to him. She can hear his words in her ears about how delicious she tastes, how much he loves it when she squirms for him. Her hands drift up to her breasts, pinching her nipples, and she rolls her hips against his tongue, feeling a spike of pleasure when he kisses downwards and fucks into her with it.

“Just like that,” Emma says, closing her eyes and throwing her head back, relishing the way her hair tickles the small of her back. “Oh god, oh god, _Killian_.”

He pulls her harder against his mouth, and she wants to scold him, remind him that she’s in control here, but there is that warm golden light building inside of her, so she circles her hips and focuses on the feeling of his tongue on her, his lips and his teeth and everything combining to overwhelm her with sensation.

Her thighs are trembling when she comes, and he pulls every last breathy gasp from her chest, every little bit of her orgasm is drawn from her until she collapses, falling forward and catch herself on weak arms so that she doesn’t land face first on the bed. Killian is breathing hard against her, and even that little bit of stimulation makes her jump. With much effort, Emma slides down until she is straddling his hips once more, and reaches back to touch his cock, which is rock hard again.

“I told you that would give you some motivation.” She tries for smug, but her heart rate is still a little too rapid for her to pull the emotion off, and there is a flash of pride in Killian’s eyes that calls an answering spark of irritation in her.

He thrusts his hips up into her hands at the same time as he tries to sit up, arms moving to wrap around her waist, but Emma grips his shoulders and leans her full body weight onto him before he can get his balance, causing him to tumble back onto the bed. His eyebrows draw together and he opens his mouth, but Emma shakes her head at him.

“I don’t think so. You’re doing what I say—remember, _lieutenant_?”

Killian snaps his jaw shut, body tense and strung tight. Emma laughs, the powerful feeling going to her head more than she suspected it would, and lifts herself so that she can slide along his cock, spreading her wetness along the length of him. Killian groans and grips the sheets tightly, breath rushing out on an exhale.

She grins and kisses him, hard, biting his lip and sucking it into her mouth, using her grip in his hair to angle his head to her liking; he follows her lead with less resistance that she expected. She savors the feeling of him pressed against her, right where she needs him, and shimmies down once more, if only to feel the rumbling moan from deep inside his chest.

Emma lifts up and in one smooth motion sinks down onto him. She was wet, incredibly so, but the stretch of him still burns slightly, enough so that she digs her nails into the skin of his chest and rocks back and forth with him still fully seated inside of her, and hisses at the delicious drag.

“Fuck,” she mutters, taking a deep breath. When she feels slightly more composed she locks eyes with him. There is color high on his cheeks, and a tension in his shoulders that hints to him stopping himself from moving touching her. Emma bites the inside of her cheek and braces herself so that she can start to move.

The pace that she sets is fast and hard, long strokes and a swirl of her hips on the way down. Emma’s eyes race over his body; the parting of his lips while he pants, the long line of his neck and the sharp angles and planes of his chest. She studies the glistening droplets of sweat that run down his forehead and memorizes his almost pained expression when she clenches around him.

She doesn’t even give him time to breathe, just focuses on fucking him into the bed. Emma angles her hips so that the pull is perfect for her too, and they’re both groaning out when she increases her pace. She bites her lip and swallows to try and wet her dry throat.

The build is starting low in her belly, consuming everything in its path, but she isn’t as close as Killian—she can tell by the shudders wracking his frame that he is racing toward the edge. His hand comes up to grab her hip, try to slow her down so that he can hold out, but he is distracted enough that Emma can slam it back down into the mattress and ride him harder, harder, the slick slide of him inside of her _so good_.

She scratches her nails along his skin hard enough to leave marks as she pulls herself forward, and then sinks her teeth into the flesh of his shoulder, biting him hard, mind flipping through everything she knows that he likes, everything she knows has him on the brink of losing control.

“Emma—oh gods—Emma, love—“

She bites him again on his chest, and then sucks a deep bruise just below his collarbone, never stopping in her movements. She can feel him, hot inside of her, and with a few more minutes of work he is coming underneath her with a strangled cry. Emma doesn’t let up, traces her tongue down his muscles, allows him to brace his feet and thrust up into her while his orgasm lasts.

She feels tired when he is finished, and triumphant while she watches him melt into the bed, but the flutter of his eyes when they open again and then the pure, genuine shock and _embarrassment_ that crosses his face is what really warms her.

“I’m not quite finished with you yet, lieutenant,” she tells him, drawing her nose along the shell of his ear.

With a growl and reflexes much too sharp for someone who just had an orgasm, Killian grabs her and rolls them over so that he is hovering above her. “You’re a bloody siren,” he says, hand already between them and brushing over her folds lightly.

Emma bucks her hips up and Killian wastes no time, plunging two fingers into her roughly. His pace matches the one she had set for him, and she had been close enough when he was inside of her; in moments his talented fingers have brought her there, teetering on the edge, and she swears that the edges of her vision is dimming.

He is leaning over her, watching with too wide eyes. “Is this what you like, Emma? How am I doing, Miss Swan?”

She wants to snarl at him because _of course_ this is what she likes and _he knows that_ , but he steals her words away from her with a kiss and the curving of his fingers combined with his thumb against her clit. She shakes apart, spiraling, and he times the thrusts of his fingers with her breath.

When she can think again, Emma feels satisfied beyond belief, and curls into Killian’s side as he wraps his arms around her. She sighs into his chest, rubbing her nose into the dark hair there, and smiles tiredly.

“You know, we aren’t very good at this whole thing.”

He chuckles. “Perhaps if you didn’t _motivate me_ so much, darling.”

She kisses him gently, soft lips and tender caresses. “I guess that wouldn’t be very fun now, would it?”


End file.
